Should Old Acquaintance be Forgot
by Veritas Found
Summary: Years pass, firms pass, people pass, even loves pass – but here, right now, they have each other, and that’s all that really matters.
1. I’ll Say my Heart Tonight

**Title: **Should Old Acquaintance be Forgot…

**Author:** Veritas Found

**Rating:** T / PG-13 / Teen

**Characters/Pairings:** Maggie Dekker, Taylor Wethersby, Matt Dowd, Jordan Wethersby, Eli Stone, Nathan Stone, Beth Keller; Matt x Taylor, Jordan x Eli (friendship), Nate x Beth, Eli x Maggie

**Summary:** Years pass, firms pass, people pass, even loves pass – but here, right now, they have each other, and that's all that really matters.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note/Warnings:** Written for the December picture prompts at Eli Stone Fic, using the following prompts (in order of use): 28, 29, 30, and 01. Spoilers up 'til 02x08, after which this just goes from speculation/denial. Was intended as a New Year's fic, 'til the Muses decided to hate me.

**Should Old Acquaintance be Forgot…**

_**This is the story of my life, and I write it every day**_

_**And I hope you're by my side when I'm writing the last page**_

"**Story Of My Life" – Bon Jovi**

**Part I: I'll Say my Heart Tonight**

She's uncomfortable, and he knows it – and knowing he knows it only serves to piss her off more. Maybe it's the hormones, maybe it's just being at a Posner and Klein office party, maybe it's how his associates haven't really given him a chance to spend any of the evening with her, or maybe it's a bit of each. She doesn't really know, and by this point she doesn't really care. She sips her cider and looks out the window, scowling into the San Franciscan night.

She doesn't want to be this upset; it's New Year's Eve, for crying out loud. She should be happy, celebrating – and if the new firm had been able to afford an office party, she probably would be. But then…well, she wouldn't be with Matt, would she? (Not like she was now – Martin Poser was making sure of that, the bastard.)

"I've been here a few years, and I've never seen it snow before. I didn't think it could," she's surprised by the voice to her side, and she turns her head to find Maggie has sidled up beside her. There's a glass of champagne in her hand and a whimsical glint in her eye, though it doesn't do well to mask the look of…what? Sadness? Loneliness? It's there, lurking just below the surface and tainting the smile the woman's forced onto her lips.

"It's rare, but it happens," she says, putting her observations aside to look back out to the night. She's surprised to see the flurries drifting through the air; she had been looking out this window for quite some time and hadn't noticed them at all. "Not usually this early, though."

"Must mean something good's going to happen tonight," Maggie muses, and she quirks a brow at her. She just smiles and shrugs. "Think about it, Taylor: it's snowing in San Francisco on New Year's Eve. That has to be a sign that something good will happen. A night for little miracles."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," she says, sipping her cider. Maggie frowns at her, but she pays her no mind. "So why aren't you back home? I would think you'd be spending Christmas 'til New Year's with the family."

"New firm picking itself up off the ground – not really a lot of time for week-long trips back to Ohio," Maggie says. She looks down into her glass, that sorrowed tint drifting back into her eyes as she plays with the stem. As for her part, she doesn't point out that the associates of Posner and Klein are more likely able to take week-long vacations than the associates of Wethersby, Stone, and Associates. "Besides, I don't really think I could handle being back in Ohio so soon after Scott. It was hard enough breaking the news to my parents, but…it's not something I'm interested in right now."

"So why aren't you spending it with Eli?" she asks a little too calmly, and she enjoys the way Maggie bristles at her comment.

"Eli can –" she starts, but she loses steam half-way through the comment and takes a swig of her drink, muttering into the glass once she's swallowed. She smiles and watches the snow continue to fall, growing in intensity as the night drags on. Maggie's words come back to haunt her, rolling through her mind and teasing her thoughts. A night for miracles, huh? So why isn't she going after her own?

"There's an old superstition about being with the one you love on New Year's Eve, Maggie. If you're alone, you won't have that person next New Year's," she says, and Maggie gives her a seething look. She brings her glass to her lips and offers her an innocent smile, trying not to look the role of local yenta. "Shouldn't you go get your kiss at midnight from George Michael's biggest fan?"

"He doesn't…feel the same way, Taylor," Maggie says, her grip tightening on the stem of the glass. For the first time that night, she feels truly sorry for her. She reaches out and clasps her shoulder, frowning.

"If you honestly believe that, Maggie, you really don't know him at all," she says, and the disdain in Maggie's face melts away into surprise. "Go to him."

"He doesn't…" Maggie tries, but she just shakes her head.

"He's too busy playing martyr to admit what he wants, but anyone with half a brain can see it's you," she says. Her smile softens as she gives her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Trust me, Maggie. Go to him."

She's reluctant, hesitant, but finally Maggie hands her her glass and turns, heading to the closet for her coat. She smiles as she watches her leave, watches her step to that ledge and just let go. She's gone within moments, and then she's turning back to the window to watch the snow fall and thinks...it would be nice to have that again. She doesn't want Eli; that's a train wreck and a half that had already upturned her life once before. But…a part of her, so small after the numerous beatings she's dealt it to shield her heart, wants it back – wants that feeling back. Loving someone so much it hurts, that it makes you act completely crazy…she wants that feeling of kissing in the rain, of –

"Taylor!" she jumps at the angered voice, spinning around as Matt snatches Maggie's half-full glass of champagne from her fingers. His face is scandalized, hurt and scared as he looks at the drink in his hand. "What were you doing?! You know you can't drink –"

"It's not mine," she says, rolling her eyes as she turns back to her window. "If you had been paying any attention to me at all tonight, you'd know that it was Maggie's. She just left to win her man back."

"…what?" he asks, face scrunching in confusion, and she sips her cider one last time before placing it on the table beside her.

"I'm going home," she says, but she stops as he grabs her wrist. "Matt!"

"Taylor, what's going on? What happened with Maggie now? And why are you –" she cuts him off, snapping her hand back to her side. His expression is troubled, worried, but she can't find it in her to care – much. She wonders if it's just the hormones, or if maybe the honeymoon period is finally coming to an end. Reality, Taylor Wethersby. Taylor Wethersby, Reality. And maybe the reality was this thing with Matt wasn't meant to work out after all.

He certainly never left an office party early just to sneak in a kiss at midnight from _her_. (Hell, he didn't even stay with her office when the battle lines were drawn.)

"Taylor?" he asks, drawing her attention back to him. He looks nervous, anxious, and suddenly her ire is gone and she just wants to hug him. She wants to wrap her arms around him and let him know it's ok, that she's fine, and that she's just being bitchy because of the stupid hormones. She wants him to know he has nothing to worry about, that she just doesn't want to do a PK office party. She wants to, but… "Please, Taylor. Talk to me."

"You've been ignoring me," she says, and it sounds weak – even to her. She watches his brow furrow, but all she can do is look back out the window. She doesn't even know how to comfort him anymore. A part of her wonders if she ever did to start with. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I'm just tired, Matt. I'm tired and I feel out of place, and I feel like you're too busy playing office kiss-up to give a damn."

"Then let's go."

She's startled by that, and when she turns to face him her eyes are wide. He's completely serious, his smile reassuring and his face set, and she just can't believe him. The Dowd doesn't play like that. The Dowd never loses a chance to make appearances and impress those who need impressing. But…he takes her hand, pulling her towards the coat closet, and she realizes that _Matt_ did. And at the realization, at seeing how quickly Matt could flip between his two personas and taking her father and Eli into consideration, she can't stop the wayward thought that wondered just how schizophrenic the men in her life truly were. The three most important men in her life, and…they were all insane, all dealing with this multiple-personality thing that seemed to present itself at the worst possible times.

"You don't have to leave just because I'm not having a good time, Matt," she says, her voice gentle as she lays a hand on his arm. He stops the search for their coats and turns his head, giving her a smile.

"Of course I do, Taylor," he says. "I want to spend New Year's Eve with you, not with a bunch of stuffy suits. Martin and Marci will understand, and if they don't…screw 'em. I'm sure they can remember a time in their lives when they had someone they loved enough to place before an office soiree."

"Mr. and Mrs. Heart of Ice? I doubt it," she snorts, and he chuckles as he grabs her red coat. He helps her into it before retrieving the black one that had been next to hers. Moments later they're out the door and he's hailing a cab, and her mind goes back to her former associate as she pulls her coat tighter about her.

"_That has to be a sign that something good will happen. A night for little miracles."_

A night for little miracles…

"Come on, before you get sick from the cold," Matt says, tugging her hand as he pulls her towards the cab she hadn't even noticed pull up. He settles in next to her, gives the cabbie the address to her loft, and then he lays his arm across her shoulders and tucks her into his side. She smiles despite herself, and she cuddles closer.

"So, you love me enough to put me before an office soiree?" she asks, reciting his words from earlier. He grins at her.

"I love a lot of things enough to put 'em before an office soiree," he says. "Like Taco Tuesdays at Ray's, the Superbowl, the prawn cocktail crisps at You Say Tomato, fishing trips with my dad…"

She gives him a look, and he leans in to kiss her cheek.

"And yeah, you," he says. He grins at her. "I told you, remember? I'm the girl here. I'm already in this too deep to back off without a fight. I'm just waiting for you to realize that you are, too."

"_A night for little miracles."_

"Maybe I am," she muses, taking his hand in her own and squeezing. She feels the way he stiffens, and her eyes glance up surreptitiously through her lashes. There's an emotion in his eyes that isn't familiar for the Dowd, but one Matt has been wearing quite a lot lately. She likes to call it hope. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you, Matt, and I know this really isn't the best time, but…I mean, a cab really isn't where I would have chosen to tell you, and it's nowhere near as romantic as a Seal concert, but…"

His lips press to hers, swallowing the words she's been trying so hard to wrap her mind around for months now.

"I love you, too, Taylor," he says, and she laughs.

"Thanks, but don't you want to actually hear it from me first?" she asks, and he shakes his head.

"No. Wait, yes. Yes! Please," he leans back, both hands grasping hers as he watches her. She compares him to an anxious puppy, eagerly awaiting its treat for a job well done. Glancing at his slightly mussed hair, she makes the comparison again and resists the urge to tousle it further.

"I love you, Matt," she finally says, and her smile is genuine as his grin splits his face. He was there first, he was right, but she was there, too. It just took her longer to realize it. "I'm sorry it's taken me this long to say it, but I mean it. I love you."

He's kissing her again, and she hears a chuckle from the front of the cab but she doesn't care. All she can focus on is Matt and how he feels against her and the excited little lurch her stomach makes as his hands caress her sides, and she thinks Maggie was right. This is a night for little miracles, and her little miracle is right here, right next to her and inside of her, and she only wishes she had realized it sooner.

She can honestly say she understands now why it's taken Maggie so long to stop beating around the bush with Eli. Thinking that, she can only hope Maggie does find him and gets her own little miracle out of the idiot tonight.

But then the cabbie pulls to a stop outside her – _their_ – loft, and Matt's paying him and helping her outside, and she doesn't think about Maggie or Eli or anything but him the rest of the night.


	2. We'll Toast the Years Gone By

**Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot…**

_**You only get just one time around, you only get one shot at this**_

_**One chance to find out the one thing that you don't wanna miss**_

_**One day when it's all said and done, I hope you see that it was enough**_

_**This one ride, one try, one life to love**_

"**One Life To Love" – 33 Miles**

**Part II: We'll Toast the Years Gone By **

They're slowly growing accustomed to the silence, the stillness that had accompanied the splitting of the firms. Quieter during the day, what with the reduced staff, and even quieter now at night when only the two managing partners linger to work the holiday. A wry smile twists his lips at the thought as he considers the man hunched over the cluttered table behind him. _He_ has a reason to hide away from the new year; Eli doesn't.

A new year.

A new start.

Eli should be with his family, with Linda and Nathan at the party Nathan was throwing (to celebrate his new practice, a chance to meet with the new patients in an informal setting before the business officially opened). He shouldn't be pouring over paperwork, shirking his life for another case. He respects the man's dedication, his commitment and empathetic nature, but sometimes he questions his judgment. He trusts his mind, and he's learning to trust his new philanthropic heart, but he knows him. He knows how single-minded he can get, how he can throw his all into a case and lose focus of the other important aspects of his life in the process. It was what had made him such a shrewd upstart in the beginning, and what makes him such a compassionate, successful litigator now.

It's also what finds him buried in paperwork on New Year's Eve when he should be celebrating with his family.

He can't help but return to the thought that _he_ should be here at that. He has the time and fading personal life to sacrifice for extra hours on a holiday night. That was something that had come from a lifetime of previous, similar offenses, all made when he should have been choosing family over work. A lifetime of choices just like Eli's, and where has it found him? Working on New Year's Eve to avoid the empty hotel room he now called home. He doesn't want that for Eli, his friend (in some ways, even, his son). Knowing that Eli has family that still speaks to him, and an equally headstrong former associate who probably wouldn't mind spending the holiday with him in the least, and that he _still_ chose work instead is…disconcerting. Worrisome. Baffling the hell out of him, as it were.

Eli should be with Linda, Nathan, and Nathan's fiancée (Beth, wasn't she called?).

Eli should be with Miss Dekker.

Eli should not be spending New Year's Eve at the office, buried in paperwork with him. After a lifetime of misguided choices and squandered chances, _he_ deserves this – Eli doesn't.

"It's snowing," he says, smiling slightly as he notices the tiny flakes tumbling from the sky. He turns his head to offer the smile to Eli and finds his friend blearily rubbing at his closed eyes. There's a frown curving his mouth, his brows creased and forehead scrunched with the gesture. He pinches the bridge of his nose and tosses a folder back into the pile, fighting a scowl. He calls his name, and the man jumps. His eyes grow wide and startled as he looks at him. "It's snowing."

"It's what?" Eli asks, eyes widening again. He nods his head out the window, and his smile warms as Eli gasps. "So early?"

"It has been unseasonably crisp this year," he says, and Eli laughs.

"That's Jordanese for 'downright frigid', right?" he asks, and they share a laugh as he nods. 'Downright frigid', indeed.

Eli groans and leans back in his chair, dragging his palms across his face as he tips his head towards the ceiling. His shoulders droop and he just breathes, a steady in-out motion intended to calm his mind; he's not sure how well it works. His smile turns down again as he considers him, thinks again that he shouldn't be here, and he turns from the window. Leveling the man with the full intent of his stare, he speaks.

"You should go home, Eli," he says. _No,_ he thinks, _you should go be with your family._ He shouldn't be _here_. But he knows he won't listen to that reasoning, knows he'll just brush him off again, and he doesn't press that portion of the issue. It won't do them any good to fight over it now.

"I can't go home, s-Jordan," he says through his palms, and he almost smiles at his near-slip. It's been a few months now, yet Eli's instinctual reaction was still to call him 'sir'. A hand slips from his face, the other remaining tightly clamped over his eyes, to gesture towards the ever-increasing pile of files and papers on the table. "Not until I find something I can actually use to help Jody. God, I hate legal red tape…"

He assumes he's thinking of the Charlie Daniels song he'd been caught humming earlier in the week. He had been anxious and annoyed ever since, claiming that a vision case at Christmas – or any surrounding/accompanying holiday – just wasn't fair. "It's His Son's birthday, for crying out loud," he'd said the day before Christmas Eve (when the case's first major blow had been dealt). "You'd think He'd give me a break for once!"

"You won't do Jody any good if you're too exhausted to do your job properly," he says, and he's curious about the pained smile that quirks Eli's lips at his words.

"Now you sound like Maggie," he says, a flicker of some unreadable regret – pain? – flashing in his eyes. He wonders if it has anything to do with Miss Dekker's failed engagement and subsequent defection to Posner and Klein.

"If I recall correctly, Eli, Miss Dekker stayed with you well past midnight on more than one occasion. I don't see how my telling you to go home at an hour and a half 'til could make you think I sound like her," he says, and Eli just chuckles.

"If not for Maggie, we would've been here much later that we usually were. She could be more adamant than Patti when it came to my not overdoing it," Eli says, smiling wistfully at the thought. _He misses her,_ he thinks, and he wonders again why he's not at least with her tonight.

Taylor had been uncomfortable with the idea of attending the Posner and Klein party with Matt, and they were an official couple – perhaps the same could be said for Eli, if Miss Dekker was indeed there and not back home in…where had it been? Ohio? Perhaps Eli was merely still being an idiot, denying the feeling – dare he say love – he holds for the girl.

"Then I suppose I owe her my thanks," he says, walking back to the table to stand near Eli's chair. Eli simply smiles fondly, that flash of deeper meaning – deeper regret – again crossing his eyes. He imagines it's much the same look he gets when he considers Ellen, though that thought doesn't comfort him much. "As it is, can I tempt you with a coffee?"

"Coffee?" Eli parrots, and he chuckles. This only confuses Eli more.

"If you're going to stay and work, Eli, you need to be awake. You look…" he pauses, struggling for a word that won't completely alarm his friend before settling on, "exhausted, as it is, and I can only imagine how you'll be in a another hour or so. I recommend coffee to help keep you alert, if you insist on staying."

But Eli has stopped listening, as easily distracted in his weary mind as a child with a penny. His eyes had turned to his watch at some point during his explanation, a small smile now turning his lips as he checks the time. He wonders what he's seen that could be so amusing, and he doesn't have to wait long before Eli unknowingly humors him and speaks.

"Ten-forty," Eli clarifies. "In an hour or so we'll be in 2009. A new year."

A new year.

A new start.

But for whom?

"Then not just a coffee," he says as he makes his way to the brew station towards the back of the room. Eli's curious eyes follow him, and he lifts the two mugs to him once they're poured. He smiles as he elaborates. "A toast, to one hell of a year."

"To an insane year," Eli quips, grinning. He laughs; it has been, hasn't it?

"To no more near-death experiences," he adds, giving Eli a pointed look as he passes him a mug. Between the two of them, he's seen more than enough of the insides of hospitals the past year. He's sure Eli can more than share that sentiment.

"To no more regrets," Eli adds, staring down into his coffee as that flash shows in his eyes again. He doesn't press. "And finally understanding the visions before I screw up anyone else's life."

"Eli…" he breathes, unsure what he can possibly say to that. He continues to stare, dumbstruck, as Eli takes a swig of his coffee, wincing slightly as the hot liquid probably scalds his throat. He's hurt, and angry, and he doesn't see how the fool can possibly think that. Eli Stone helps people, saves people – he doesn't _screw up_ their lives. How does he not understand, not see, that? How dare he?

For the first time in his life, he – the unshakable Jordan Wethersby – is left completely speechless.

But thinking back on the year that's passed, he's thinking maybe it isn't the first time. No, it isn't, and it's certainly not the first time Eli could find himself the cause of it.

"To a year where I can finally stop making everyone I care about hate me. Where I can stop hurting them with these visions," Eli says, taking another swig of coffee, and he's still unable to wrap his mind around what he's saying. He sees his face darkening into a glower, and suddenly he's had quite enough of Eli Stone's self-flagellation.

"You…really are a complete and utter moron, aren't you?" he finally asks. It's not quite what he meant to say, but then again maybe it is. His daughter's old sentiment just rolled off his tongue, the first and only thing that really came to mind after Eli's declarations. He has to be, to think such things. Eli Stone, brilliant litigator. Eli Stone, complete and utter moron.

Eli's brow has arched at his question, but he doesn't question him on his words. Instead he simply shrugs and sips his coffee. He supposes that's better than the violent swigging that had accompanied his previous two drinks.

"How can you even begin to think, to honestly believe, you've 'screwed up' anyone's life? That you're hurting people or making them hate you?" he asks, sincerely bewildered. Eli looks back to the table, as if he's unable to answer his question. But then, eyes and head still ducked away almost shamefully from his scrutinizing gaze, he does.

"I embrace my 'calling', and Taylor hates me. I 'see' Maggie's fiancée cheating on her, get into a fistfight with him at their engagement party, and they break up," Eli says, and his lips quirk up into a slight smirk.

"Well, you really don't have a good track record with engagement parties, in your defense, and if he was cheating on her I highly doubt Miss Dekker would have kept him around much longer," he says, but Eli only rolls his eyes.

"You'd be surprised how tightly Maggie can cling to a lost cause," he says, and there's something in his look – his voice – that makes him wonder if he was only referring to the ex-fiancée. "It's my fault Nate lost his job at St. Vincent's, that whole mess with Angela and Patti, my acupuncturist isn't speaking to me, Ellen's left you…everything that gets touched by my visions gets ruined."

"You're only saying this because you're frustrated and tired," he says, trying to will them both to believe it. Eli snorts.

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" he snaps, and he nods. Yes, but that doesn't mean he agrees. He's seen the good that's come from Eli's visions, experienced it first- and secondhand. Looking at the positive, he can't bring himself to see them as such a black thing.

"Taylor doesn't hate you, Eli. She's just been hurt, she's scared of how quickly things are moving with Matt, and with the pregnancy her moods have frequently been erratic. As I said, Miss Dekker's engagement would have ended badly anyway. Nathan is at this moment at a New Year's Eve launch party with the rest of your family for the new practice he's opened with the money St. Vincent's has paid him off with. Where, might I add, you should also be," he says, giving him another pointed look. Eli shifts uncomfortably under his reasoning and stare. "Patti has finally admitted to a problem she's battled years with, and as a result is finally receiving help for it. Because of that, her daughter has also admitted to and is receiving help for a similar problem, effectively nipping it in the bud while it's still in the early stages. This is the best their relationship has been in a long while, Eli – you know that. I don't know what to say about your acupuncturist, but I sincerely doubt it's as bad as you seem to think."

"So you agree with me on Ellen," Eli says wryly, and he sighs.

"Regardless of what you may think, Eli, the circumstances between my ex-wife and I have nothing to do with you or your visions," he says, and Eli has the decency to look slightly shamed, though still like he wants to protest the fact. His face softens, and it's his best fatherly smile he offers him. "No one blames you, Eli."

"I do," he mumbles quietly, and he sighs. He crosses the room, coming to a halt by his side. He clasps a hand on his shoulder.

"Then you would be the only one," he tells him, and this time Eli's smile is genuine, appreciative – if only slightly. He raises his mug and considers the drink for a moment. "I propose a different toast."

"A different toast?" Eli asks, seemingly amused by the idea. He nods.

"To an interesting, _surprising_ year. I will give you that it hasn't been the easiest, but it's been a hell of a ride, and I don't regret where it has found us. To a new year full of new beginnings. May it be smoother than its predecessor, but may the ride be just as thrilling and the destination just as ideal," he finishes, raising his mug, and they each take a deep drink. That look flashes again in Eli's eyes, but neither pursue it. He doesn't know whether or not he's grateful for that. They finish their drinks in an amicable silence, and he scoops up his coat when he's done.

"Jordan?" Eli asks, startled by the motion. He gives him another smile as he slips his coat on and moves to gather his bag.

"I'm an old man, Eli," he says, and again there's that look of wanting to protest in Eli's eyes. He can't – they both know it's true. "I'm not as fit for these late nights as I once was."

Eli looks back to the files, a look akin to guilt painting his features. He chuckles, and the guilt's replaced by confusion. Before he can question him, he once more clasps a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm retiring for the night," he says, still unable to say _I'm going home_ when 'home' is a cold, dark hotel room. "And I sincerely suggest – plead, even – that you do the same. At least consider it."

"I still have to –" and if he had ever been a man of such juvenile gestures, he would have rolled his eyes at the excuse.

"Eli, there comes a time in every man's life where he looks back on the things he's done, the choices he's made, and wonders if he could have – should have – done things differently. When he's grown dissatisfied with the man he sees in the mirror, he has to wonder how different that man would be if not for one wrong choice, or a series of wrong choices that all lead to the same end," he says, fixing that paternal, mentor stare on his protégée one more time. "Don't let too many long nights at the office – too many long _holidays_ at the office – be one of those mistakes, Eli."

He thinks – prays – maybe he's finally gotten through to him when he nods.

"I'll pack up soon," Eli promises, and he hopes he means it. "Goodnight, Jordan."

"Goodnight, Eli, and happy new year," he says, and Eli smiles in response. He leaves then, exiting the conference room to make his way towards the elevators. He still isn't sure, but he hopes Eli does decide to listen to him. Thinking again on that dark hotel room and cold bed awaiting him, and thinking on Miss Dekker and the chance Eli is being too stubborn to see before him, he can't stop the thought that that isn't the ending he wants for his friend. It isn't even the ending he wanted – wants – for himself.

He steps out into the snow and breathes deep in the crisp winter air. He checks his watch. One hour to midnight.

A new year.

A new start.

And this time, he can't help but think, there's going to be someone there for Eli Stone when he's too busy saving the world to save himself.


End file.
